


The Best Man

by wintercearig



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Love, M/M, Marriage, Stag Night, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercearig/pseuds/wintercearig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin asks Douglas to be his best man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Man

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cabin Crew Riot Two on tumblr.  
> The prompt was "Best".

The thing is: Douglas had thought that the two of them would have _forever_ to figure it out. He had long assumed that there could be eventually more than mutual friendship and professional acknowledgement between his former Captain and him. There had always been this spark of attraction, the casual touch that lasted a tick too long, the exchanged glances a bit too deep. If they just would have acted on it.

When Martin had decided to leave MJN and to take the job offer of Swiss Airwaves, they all knew that this sealed the airline’s fate. Both Carolyn and Douglas had encouraged him to do so, because after all it was only fair to allow Martin his own shot at happiness and success.  
So now Martin was flying with Swiss Airwaves and lived in Zurich during the week. Herc had put in a good word for Douglas, so that he also was hired by the expanding company and could spend his last years before retirement at a proper airline after all. Douglas knew that he should be glad but he did not like living in Zurich at all. A man of his age should not be bothered to move to a different country with a foreign language and hardly any social connections.  
Of course he knew Carolyn and Herc, who got themselves a nice flat in the green edge of the city, but there was just a certain amount of Herc that one could stand. Same went for Arthur. And Martin spent the weekends and his free days mostly in Vaduz, understandably enough. Sir finally got himself a girlfriend, and apparently Martin didn’t do things by halves so it had to be a bloody princess.

 

\-----

 

Nevertheless it hit Douglas completely out of the blue when Martin was standing at his door one evening, looking slightly sheepish as usual and evidently tense.

“Um, hello Douglas.”

“Martin? You’re here? Has anything happened?”

“Yes, no, I mean, yes, yes, but not the way that you think. Can I come in?”

“Of course. Be my guest.”

They went to sit in Douglas’ living room which was still rather spare furnished.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. Douglas, I don’t want to bother you too long, but I have to ask you something.”

“I see. Now I am wondering – what kind of question could possibly lead you all the way out here? Do you need my professional opinion on something? Has the manual failed you?”

“I’m serious. It’s a very important question for me, so...”

“Martin, please. Have some pity for your old First Officer and put me out of my misery. I just can’t stand the tension. Just make short work and fire away.”

“Douglas, I wanted to ask you, if you... I mean you obviously don’t have to and I could probably find someone else... but I was hoping that... what I wanted to know is, could you imagine to be, I say, wouldyouliketobemybestman?”

“Excuse me?”

“Would you. Would you like to be my best man?”

“I? Your best man? When?”

“On my wedding day, obviously.”

“That much I could have guessed myself, thank you. But when? And why, I mean, how...?”

“Theresa and I decided to take our relationship to the next level. We’ve been going out for nearly a year now and she is dead certain about those things. I think I want to settle down with her and the time is just perfect, with me being permanently employed at Swiss Airwaves, so yeah. That’s it. We plan to get married in three months. ”

“That is a surpise at short notice indeed.”

“You don’t have anything else to say? I take it you don’t want to do it, then. God, I should have known. I can imagine you’re not the biggest fan of weddings after all you... Look, I’m sorry for asking, Douglas. But I’d be very happy if you decided to come the party anyway.”

“Martin, don’t be stupid. Of course I will be your best man. I’m just a bit baffled right now. Unexpected announcement, that is all. But I’m flattered, very so. It’d be my honour. Thank you for ... that act of faith.”

 

\-----

 

After this rather awkward conversation they continued with their own special kind of small talk which had been perfected in six years of spending countless hours stuck in a flight deck together. Sometimes Douglas thought of this talks as the pilot version of ‘sweet nothings’ and came to enjoy it rather much with Martin.  
After his ex-colleague had made his farewells, Douglas spent a great part of that night sitting alone on his sofa and staring into the darkness.

Martin Crieff. His Captain. Getting married. To Theresa. Princess of Liechtenstein. In three fucking months.  
That was it. Just like that a _forever_ could end.

Douglas felt helpless. Ambivalent. On the one hand he was ought to be glad about his friend’s happiness. Martin was about to marry a tolerable woman. The perpetual bachelor finally found someone who apparently managed to accept and overlook his flaws. Theresa was able to make him feel less awkward and more comfortable in his own skin. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? – and so much more than Douglas ever did.  
On the other hand he could not ignore the pain in his chest – a nagging throb, making him unable to lift a finger. Martin did not need a good Samaritan to safe him, for God’s sake, he was not a damsel in mistress. He was worth of someone who would not only ignore his imperfection but embrace and cherish and worship it. Someone who would not complete but rather complement him.

‘And who would that be?’, said a sly voice inside his head.  
‘You? Douglas Richardson, master of cynism and major teaser, always on duty? You of all people? Who are you to tell Martin what he needs? Who are you to grant yourself the right to judge over this issue?’

In the end Martin deserved the best of all weddings, and Douglas would made sure that he would get it.

 

\-----

 

A few weeks later Douglas was about to pick up Martin for his stag night. He had come to the conclusion that his friend would appreciate a private party on the observation decks of Zurich airport more that gambling or strippers. It was an easy thing to pull some strings and Douglas hoped that Martin would like it. To mark the occasion Douglas had put on his old MJN uniform. Everyone else was instructed to dress as aircraft personnel as well.

As Martin answered the door, he was wide-eyed at the sight of Douglas.

“Good evening, Douglas. Oh, I see your old uniform still fits you.”

“You wouldn’t have thought so? Captain, you offend me.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m sorry, that was not the way I meant it. You look... rather fancy in that uniform.”

“That’s better.”

“I just thought... I assumed that you’d maybe never want to put that thing on again. Especially not with that number of stripes on your arm.”

“One does what one can for the sake of good old times.”

“All right. Wait a second, I’ll be ready in a tick.”

“No need for stress. Oh, and Martin? Just a suggestion – maybe you also want to put on a uniform. To meet the evening’s topic.”

“What? Oh. Brilliant!”

And with these words Martin vanished to his bedroom. Douglas kept standing in the hallway. When Martin came back, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Satisfied, Douglas?”

“Oh, yes, I’m very pleased indeed. Let’s go.”

 

\-----

 

Everything was perfect. The location was marvellous and Douglas managed to get them all fairly drunk – except Arthur, of course. Arthur and he had stuck to different juices for the whole evening. Luckily the boy did not try to engage in bar talk with Douglas again. Overall, everyone enjoyed themselves and the groom-to-be seemed to be having the time of his life.

On the ride home it became evident that Martin was a bit more than just tipsy. He was chatting non-stop about the weirdest topics until he suddenly fell silent.

“Martin? Are you all right? Are you getting sick?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say next.

“Thank you for the nice evening, Douglas.”

“You’re welcome. One usually gets only one stag night to celebrate, so I hope this was worth it.”

“Definitely. I loved it.”

“I’m glad.”

“You’re a really good friend.”

Douglas decided to better say nothing and pretended to focus on the street.

“I miss you. Um, I mean I miss flying with you. The pilots at Swiss Airwaves are all so very boring. They never play any games and their most important topic is who got laid by which stewardess. It’s hideous.”

“At least you get paid for that job. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes, but still. Sometimes I think I’d rather live on toast and pasta for the rest of my days and get back what we’ve had. MJN, I mean. God, I’m talking rubbish, am I not? Please just ignore me.”

“No, I actually think the same. Sometimes. Of course I wouldn’t have to live on toast and pasta, but still.”

“It was a rather... nice time, after all. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, Martin. It was indeed. But now you’re getting married and a new stage of life is about to begin for you.”

The only reaction he got was a gut-wrenching sigh.

 

\-----

 

“Martin, we’re there. Let’s get you out of the car.”

“Would you like to come up for some coffee?”

“Are you making an indecent offer?”

Only then Martin realised what he had just said.

“Oh God, no, I didn’t mean it that way. I was just asking... Douglas, you’re taking the piss!”

“Sorry, Sir. Couldn’t resist. But I’ll take that coffee.”

They ended up sitting on Martin’s floor, because most of his furniture had already been shipped to Theresa’s estate.

“Douglas, can I ask you a question?”

“As you can surely remember, all this started with a rather pompous question of you. So I think I can handle one more.”

“How did you know that your betrothed was the right one?”

“Wow, that’s strong stuff. Are you sure you’re asking the right person? I have nothing to show except three failed marriages, so apparently none of my wives has been the right one.”

“But why did you marry them in the first place?”

“Why indeed. Because that’s what people do. To show their affection and affiliation.”

“And how does one measure if the amount of affection is enough to get married?”

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

Deadly silence. Martin was avoiding any eye contact. He was aimlessly gazing into the distance.

“Martin?”

 

Suddenly he turned his head and fixed his eyes on Douglas.

“Douglas...”

His voice was hardly more than a whisper now.

‘Just this once’, Douglas thought. ‘Just this once I will allow myself to get lost in those perfect eyes. Then I’ll shut up and be content and let him marry Theresa. No tears, no negotiation.’

And so it happened.  
All of a sudden they were very close, breathing the same air. Martin had leaned in. He put his right hand on Douglas’ neck and brought them closer, the other one rested on the older man’s cheek and stroked carefully over the stubble.  
Their eyes locked. Douglas had Martin’s scent in his nose. His breath smelled of alcohol and peppermints, but overall it was an overwhelming bouquet, familiar and unknown at the same time, thick with unspoken promises.

“Martin... what are you doing?”

“Please tell me I’m not wrong about this. Please tell me that just this once I’m not mistaken.”

“Martin, I...”

He didn’t make it any further, because in that moment Martin decided to bridge the remaining divide and brought their lips together.

Dougles felt the walls inside him collapsing, all his restraint and resistance buried under their remains. He could not help responding. He kissed him back passionately and started to run his fingers through Martin’s ginger hair. Heavenly.

When their tongues first touched, a low moan escaped Martin’s mouth. Douglas answered this with a smug growl.

By the time they finally separated, they were both in a flustered state, anxious, aroused, and breathless. There was an urgency in the air that definitely hasn’t been there before. Douglas caught his breath first.

“Bedroom?”

 

\-----

 

Douglas woke the next morning with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his belly. Next to him Martin was still sleeping, his arms curled around Douglas’ waist. Douglas buried his nose in his hair, eagerly breathing in. He let his fingerstips circle Martin’s lips, softly ghosting over his face and neck. His eyes drank in the sight of the wonderful man, sleeping peacefully and looking so young.  
This was possible the one and only time he could have this. Shame on him if he wouldn’t savour it.  
Martin began stirring a bit and opened his eyes, yawning.

“G’morning.”

“Good morning, Martin.”

“Douglas? But... oh. Shit.”

“Not quite the salutation I’ve hoped for, but okay. Headache?”

“Uh, a bit.”

“No surprise.”

Abruptly Martin got up and looked down at himself. Then he peeked at Douglas and finally got real.

“What time is it?”

“Half past ten.”

“Damn, okay. I’m supposed to meet Theresa at 11. I guess I should better cancel that.”

“Maybe, yes.”

“God, Douglas. What have we done.”

“I’m sorry, Martin. I knew you were quite drunk and I should never have taken advantage of that fact. I should feel awful. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop talking nonsense! I was not that drunk. We didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

“But...”

“No back talk! Look, Douglas, I have to tell you something. To be honest I’ve had a crush on you since the very beginning. Seriously. But what was I supposed to do, you were happily married, at least seemingly, always teasing and eroding my authority and mocking my professionalism, and after all I was just a very awkward guy with a too big hat. I could never have imagined that you would actually reciprocate.”

“And it took you quite a few shots and an upcoming wedding to act on it.”

“Oh, God, the wedding. How could I forgot about that? What are we going to do? Oh God. Douglas. What shall I do? Oh God.”

“Don’t panic, Martin. Calm down.”

“How am I supposed to keep calm, if... ? Don’t you dare to be so self-righteous! You could also have done something sooner.”

“Not even in my wildest dreams I dared to hope for anything besides the friendship we had.”

“We were idiots.”

“Indeed we were.”

“I’m glad we talked about that.”

“Me too.”

“I’m glad we are no longer idiots.”

“For once I have to agree with you. This whole development turns out to be rather pleasant.”

“Douglas?”

“Yes?

“May I kiss you again?”

“By all means.”

 

\-----

 

If there is one thing Douglas has learned in his life so far, it is that fortune is fickle. What they call ‘love’ is in fact a life-threatening risk. The flame that warms you in one moment can burn you the next. The delightful sea from a bright summer day spend with your beloved will turn into the ocean that swallows you whole, to drown you in its endless waters, cold as steel and without any mercy.  
He has already learnt this painful lesson and yet he was not prepared for this. Nothing could have braced him for this.

Watching his former lover _(“Douglas, I love you”)_ walking down that aisle _(“it’s just not fair”)_ , wearing a fancy suit and his wedding day smile _(“we have to make the best of it”)_ , laying eyes on the beautiful bride _(“I can’t do this to Theresa”)_ , standing next to his best man _(wrong side, wrong side)_ , exchanging looks one last time (where once was _love_ , Douglas can now see _nothing but sadness and a desperate need for reassurance_ ), saying “Yes, I do” _(“I’m so sorry”)_ as well as “in good times and in bad” _(“I hope you will be able to forgive me one day”)_ , and all he can think of is  
 **‘I do, Martin. I do, too.’**

_And then he lets go, because the captain stays fast with his sinking ship. So he lets the waves crash into each other above his head, the water hardens and numbs and he opens the gates of his heart and let sorrow floot that doleful organ, until there is no more blood in it. He’s just floating away and his body is adrift in water, salt and sky, and maybe the morning will find his body washed up the shoreline, one thousand miles west._


End file.
